


Underneath the Starry Vigils

by dedougal



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steampunk AU. Jared had always wanted to captain an airship under his own terms. Jensen Ackles offered that - and adventure, romance and treasure too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underneath the Starry Vigils

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SPN_Reversbang 2011. Prompt from angelicfoodcake. Thanks to morganoconnor for looking it over. Warnings: non-explicit attempted underage non-con, injury and recovery (no character death)

“Jared, I hope you don’t mind…” Jensen swung around to place his back at Jared’s, forming a knot in the centre of the deck.

“Mind?” Jared gripped the hilt of his sword more firmly, hoping his leather coat would hold up against the blades of their ferocious opponents.

“I just wanted you-“ There was a pause as Jensen let off a shot from the pistol in his hand. “To know-“ Another shot, another pause. “That I love you.”

Jared opened his mouth to reply, but found himself hard-pressed by the pirates spilling from their lean barge. He concentrated on parrying stokes and using the butt of his spent pistol to club at any adversary stalking his off-hand. He beat them back, moving with Jensen, trusting him to cover his back. There were a finite number of pirates and Jared knew if he could disengage their ship, that there was a chance, a small chance, that he’d be able to get them out of this alive, if not quite in one piece.

The rest of the crew were close pressed too, Misha using the ropes holding the giant dirigible tight like an ape, swinging up and around, avoiding the musket shots and long knives with enviable grace. Alona was pinned in the prow, her tiny frame belying the wiry strength she’d built up from hauling the ship around. Even Chad, their cook was out, cast iron frying pan in one hand and a wicked looking meat cleaver in the other, chopping efficiently. He was near the rail and managed to slice through one of the ropes binding their airship to that of the pirates.

Jared took a wild swing and a pistol went off next to his ear. The ringing sound that he’d been experiencing ever since Jensen’s announcement intensified but he managed to loose yet another one of the grapples. Two remained as Jensen joined him at the rail. Jared caught his eye, felt his cheeks heat up. Then he nodded and Jensen answered with a wide grin of his own. They leapt forward again, driving the pirates back, back, back, until they had them pressed against the wheelhouse, tripping over the bodies of their colleagues.

There was a triumphant bellow as Chad splintered the deck rail yet again and only one feeble rope held fast the pirates’ vessel. Their captain, a scrawny bloke with a trailing black moustache yelled and the remaining pirates disengaged, abandoning weapons and booty in their haste. They undid the final rope themselves and took off, rising high into the clear blue sky. Jared turned to Jensen in speechless victory and felt a wild shot from the fleeing vessel score across his side.

Jensen’s wide grin faded as Jared tried to step forward and fell to his knees, body unable to support his weight. He put a hand to his injury and it came away scarlet. Breathing, thinking, moving was impossible against the black cloud overwhelming his vision.

“I… love…” Jared gasped. Then the blackness took him completely.

 

Jared had always wanted to ride the airships. San Antonio wasn’t exactly centre of the airship world – there was talk of running out one of the steam engines out here to compensate for the lack and make travel back to civilization that mite easier – but every few days, a ship would berth, tie up to the tallest building in town and deliver mail, supplies and news from the wider world. He would stop whatever he was doing – riding one of the horses, toting bales, working in a stuffy classroom at Math that seemed to never want to behave – to watch the elegant wooden yachts or narrow hulled racers, or even the ponderous cargo barges tie up, float effortlessly, bringing a promise of adventure, or a way out of Texas.

It was nothing more than a daydream. He would finish up school, spend some time working around the farm and eventually help his brother run it. Marry a girl he knew and that would be it. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Uncle Jeff changed all that.

The duffel at the foot of the stairs, the pea coat tossed haphazardly over the banister was the first hint that something was off when Jared came home from school. He followed the adult voices through to the kitchen, finding his mother serving coffee to a dark haired gentleman, in a suit too heavy for the warm day. The man had a day or two’s stubble covering his cheeks but his eyes were warm and dancing when he turned to see Jared standing uncertainly in the doorway.

“This must be Jeff?” His accent was familiar, like home. Like his mother’s.

“Jared,” his mother corrected. “This is your Uncle Jeff. That your brother is named after.”

The man unfolded himself from the chair, standing tall, and came forward to ruffle Jared’s hair. He smelled a little like gas, as if he worked with machines. His smile was lazy. “Grew up some, boy.”

“Jared? You got homework?” His mom was obviously wanted to talk to this mysterious uncle alone. Jared nodded. “Go to your room, then. I’ll call you for supper.”

Jared nodded again, and pounded up the stairs. If he were a less pleasant boy, he might be tempted to creep back down and listen at the door. Instead he set himself the task of unravelling the poem his teacher had set, losing himself in worlds long ago and far away.

 

Uncle Jeff, it transpired over supper, was first mate on a cargo airship, one of the huge hulled barges with six massive balloons labouring to keep it afloat. He normally flew between New York and Paris, London, Berlin.

“With all of Europe threatening to go up in flames, the captain thought we could take some leave before sailing off again. He’s getting on in years…” Jared hung on every word as his uncle described the situation across an ocean Jared had only ever seen in geography lessons. He listened ever more closely when his uncle started to talk about rigging and ropes, currents in the air. He never even noticed that everyone was waiting for him to finish his food, too caught up in Uncle Jeff’s tales to eat.

 

Jeff was with them three days, helping with the horses and catching up with his mother, his friends in the neighbourhood. He even paid a visit to the local tavern, waking Jared up as he wove up the garden path, swaying from side to side and singing.

There was an odd silence in the house as Uncle Jeff packed up his stuff in the guest room. Jared’s shyness hadn’t quite deserted him. He clung to the door frame, unable to ask what he wanted. His uncle’s keen eye didn’t miss him.

“I think you’d like to sail an airship, eh?” His voice was soft, his eyes fixed on Jared firmly. Jared blushed under the scrutiny but he nodded. “If I make… In a few years, I could write to your momma, ask if you still want?”

The air seemed to seize up in Jared’s chest. “Really?”

“You’re a bit young, and scrawny-“ A laugh followed that. “And your momma would murder me if I took her baby boy. But if you still want. Need to work at school and mind your chores.”

Jared smiled. He could do that. And he had a promise to hold on to now.

 

Jared woke, suddenly, in the dark. It wasn’t entirely dark, he realised, eyes adjusting. There was a lamp burning low, letting off just enough light for him to see Jensen slumped in a chair too small for him. Jared realised that they must be in Jensen’s private quarters. This bed was much too comfortable to be his own. He’d been down here, once or twice, but never beyond the main cabin. He didn’t believe in invading Jensen’s private space, any more than he’d expect Jensen to come into his own, rather more cramped cabin, where the bed doubled as seating and a desk as need dictated.

The low lamplight didn’t reveal much, beyond the fact that the sheets were white, Jensen was sleeping and there were books everywhere. He laid back on the soft down filled pillow. His head ached and his throat was dry. He would have loved some water but he didn’t think he could move. Under the immediate discomforts lay a throbbing, insistent pain radiating from his side. He lifted the sheets to see a wide bandage wrapped completely around his midriff. He lay back on the pillows, head spinning. He had to think hard to remember what had happened but the very fact he was comfortable in Jensen’s bed suggested that they’d seen the pirates off.

Jared tried to moisten his mouth with saliva but couldn’t seem to draw any water into his mouth. He must have been making some noise, because Jensen came to his side, stealthily enough that Jared was surprised to see him there, supported Jared’s head and brought a cool bottle from the floor. The water was nectar.

It was while they were so close, Jensen’s broad palm cradling the back of his neck, that Jared remembered the desperate conversation they’d tried to have in the middle of the attack. The darkness hid most of Jensen’s face. Jared lifted his hand, heavy though it was, and cupped Jensen’s cheek, desperate to meet Jensen’s eyes, wanting to see that the declaration was still true, still certain. That a promise made would still be met.

Jensen stilled under his hand, eyes seeking out Jared’s.

 

Apprenticing on an airship was much the same as the apprenticeship Jared would have served in almost any walk of life. He had paperwork to be signed and stamped, books of rules to memorised and regurgitate at will, time to serve away from family and home and superiors to be prey to.

The fact an airship only had so many hiding places and that the older boys and girls were much more familiar with them meant that even the reprieve of sanctuary was denied to him. Jared hid the bruises as best he could, trying not to wince in the cold morning air, when the clouds enveloped the ship in wet clinging mist. He didn’t go crying to his uncle, who had turned from a friendly warm-hearted joker into a strict taskmaster once they’d left dock. He didn’t even write home of his utter abject misery. Jared straightened his back, squared his shoulders and bulled through the day as best he could.

The torment was personal and vicious from one of the older boys, a heavy boy who struggled with clambering up the swinging ropes that tethered the ship to its dirigible balloons. He always ate the prize portion of any meal too, beating out the smaller boys for their fair share. Murdoch was always sweating, his shirts soaking through by mid-morning, no matter how cold it was. Jared tried to avoid him but Murdoch seemed to find him no matter where he ended up, fingers pinching, words biting. Jared hated him.

The worst was the night that Murdoch caught him behind the wheelhouse. Jared had been watching the way the fire of the setting sun stretched and distorted their shadow on the ripe fields they were sailing over. He had watched it twist over barn roofs and melt into the shadows of valleys and dells. He waved idly at the people below, knowing they would see nothing more than a black splodge against the darkening sky. Jared enjoyed it: the peace, the quiet stillness, the way no one else seemed to even be here except him and the occasional bird. He was trapped in his corner when Murdoch arrived.

Murdoch seemed to be sweating more than ever as he advanced on Jared, hands outstretched to stop him escaping. Like Jared could escape around his bulk. He wore an odd expression on his face, beady eyes fixed and staring, mouth agape. Jared caught the sweet sour stench of hops. Murdoch and the others had snuck some of the crew’s beers again, no doubt.

Jared hardened his body, expecting the boy to let swing with one of the meaty spades he called hands. Instead Murdoch grabbed at him, pushed him into the rail and forced his mouth over Jared’s as he wriggled and squirmed to get out of the strong grasp. It made no difference. Murdoch’s unexpected grasp was solid and he used the weight of his body to hold Jared firm, pinned between him and the unyielding planks of the ship. Murdoch moved his face over Jared’s, using his tongue to paint his name in drool, or so Jared supposed. He stood rigid then. Maybe freezing and not reacting at all would make Murdoch leave.

Instead, Jared groaned, Murdoch took his sudden stiffness as acquiescence and whispered in Jared’s ear, “I knew you wanted it.”

The situation seemed clear. Murdoch was rolling his hips, pressing his body against Jared’s unwilling one, his mouth once more licking and supping at Jared’s firmly sealed one. Jared shook his head, silent, unwilling to open his mouth for fear of what Murdoch would do with the hot questing heat of his tongue. A sudden vain hope was sparked when Murdoch pulled back but it was only to turn Jared and force him to the deck. The weight of Murdoch’s body against his spine, hands scrabbling at Jared’s clothes, was enough to shock the silence from him.

“Help!” The cry echoed emptily through the sky. Jared heard no answering footfalls, no pounding boots. Instead he heard Murdoch’s laugh, humourless and angry, and felt one hand force over his mouth, keeping him silent as Murdoch managed to worm his pants down, leaving his ass bare to the chill of the wind.

Jared redoubled his struggles, trying to unseat Murdoch. He kicked upwards, hoping to strike a vital blow. Instead Murdoch let out a low groan and Jared felt his hot hard damp length slot along the crease of his ass. Tears of humiliation and pain started to come unwarranted to his face.

Then the stifling pressure of Murdoch’s body was gone. Jared surged once more, seeking freedom, before realising he was bare assed in front of the crew. He scrabbled to his feet, tugging up his pants before turning to see the captain and Uncle Jeff looking furious and Murdoch bleeding freely from a burst nose. He was caught between two of the other sailors.

“I’m sorry...” Jared looked at the impassive faces of the crew. “He-”

Uncle Jeff turned to the captain. “I’ll deal with Jared?”

The captain nodded. Jared was certain he would be in some kind of dire trouble until he was stopped, a gentle hand on his shoulder. The captain examined his face, eyes kind. “Lift up your shirt, boy.”

Orders had to be obeyed. Jared drew up the material with a trembling hand. The bruises from the last beating he’d taken were vivid blue and purple over the green and yellow from older injuries. The hand on his shoulder squeezed, offering sympathy, and he let the shirt drop down.

“Murdoch. My quarters.” The captain’s voice was back to steel. The other sailors dragged the boy below and Uncle Jeff watched them go before ordering the crew back to their tasks. With night falling, there were ropes to be adjusted and made fast before darkness made such work near impossible.

Uncle Jeff waited until they were alone before he slung his arm over Jared’s shoulders and steered him into his cabin. It wasn’t huge but it was private. Jensen had to share hammocks strung between support beams. He used to be kept awake by all the snores and low chatter but he had long got used to it. Jared was learning that it was possible to become accustomed to just about anything.

“Jared?” Uncle Jeff asked, after settling Jared on his neat made bed. He took a chair. “How long has it been going on?”

Jared looked at him, taking in the fact he wasn’t angry, before spilling out the whole story. Uncle Jeff looked relieved at the end, oddly, and came over to give Jared a swift hug, ruffling his hair up at the back.

“Uncle Jeff?” Jared finally decided to ask. “What was he trying to do?”

Uncle Jeff choked a little, somewhere between surprise, laughter and embarrassment. Then he quietly, very quietly, explained to Jared about women, men and the whole mess of love and sex.

 

The next time Jared woke, Jensen was stretched out on the floor beside him. Daylight was creeping in through the edges of the blinds Jensen had fixed to his porthole windows. Jared started to stretch down to him but the shooting pain in his side made him draw back his arm. Not before his involuntary hiss woke Jensen though.

“You better not have ripped your stitches out,” Jensen muttered, rubbing his eyes before rising. He was still wearing his rumpled and stained shirt from the night before but had taken off his pants. Jared’s eyes were caught by the fine golden hair covering his muscular thighs. He could imagine running his palms over it, gripping the muscles to lift Jensen up, to spread his legs... Jared looked away, suddenly worried that if he continued to think such things, he would not be able to hide his reaction.

Jensen smiled though, reaching over to brush the tangle of hair out of Jared’s eyes. Then he tugged the blankets down to Jared’s waist and looked critically at the wide bandage swathing his midriff.

“I think it needs changed.” Jensen fetched supplies from a bag over the other side of the room. A salve, more bandages. He pulled out a small bowl and headed to a cubby hole at the far side of his quarters and Jared heard the sound of running water. Jensen had installed all kinds of experimental features - running water being one of them - and no wonder those pirates had been determined to steal the vessel for their own.

“We’re sailing north,” Jensen said, placing his bundles down carefully on the bedside table. On top of the books on the bedside table. He put the water on the floor. “Trying to get to a proper hospital. Alona said it would take us three days.”

“It might take longer,” Jared told him bluntly. “We were much further south than I think they realised.”

Jensen let out a considering hum, then unfastened the bandage. “You are going to have to sit up. Maybe... Maybe you should hold on to me?”

Jared lifted his arms slowly and Jensen dropped until they were nearly face to face. In the light of day, Jared wondered even more about the declaration of affection Jensen had blurted out. It was clear that Jensen had no such reservations. He stroked at Jared’s cheek, once, before taking Jared’s arm and pulling it around his neck. Jared followed suit with the other one, holding fast. Jensen slowly raised up, supporting Jared’s back with his hands until Jared was free of the sheets.

Jensen made fast work of the bandages, unwrapping swiftly with one hand while the other held fast to the small of Jared’s back. The pain increased with every instant Jared was upright. He buried his nose in Jensen’s hair, breathed in the scent of sweat and ink and the faint musk of cologne that he’d come to associate with Jensen. Then he was being lowered to lie shivering on the sheets while Jensen crooned and cleaned his wound with the water.

It was as if he was drifting a little. Jared had been hurt before - hurt himself, actually, being somewhat clumsy - but this was different. The wound seemed to infect every part of him, draining him of strength and will. Not that he’d had much will power when it came to Jensen in the first place. Jared let his head fall to one side, watching the way Jensen bit at his lip in concentration as he soothed the cooling salve over Jared’s stitches, brow furrowed in concentration or worry.

“It’s a little hot,” Jensen said, wiping his hands on the cloth he’d used to dry Jared’s side. “Sure it’ll be fine.” He bent forward, close enough for Jared to start counting his freckles. “Hold on, again.”

Jared wrapped his arms around, though they felt heavier this time, and Jensen bandaged him up tight. Jared was grateful to be let down, his eyes already fluttering shut. “Don’t sleep on the floor.”

Jensen was picking up the old bandages. “What?”

“You shouldn’t sleep on the floor. Or in the chair. You’ll hurt yourself.” Jared could feel his tongue thick in his mouth but he thought he was clear enough. He tried to smile, finding it even harder to keep his eyes open.

“That’s not quite how I imagined spending my first time in bed with you,” Jensen said, softly, as if he expected Jared not to hear him. Jared knew Jensen was leaning close. He could feel the soft puffs of breath against his cheek. Then, butterfly light, a kiss was pressed to Jared’s lips.

 

Jared had criss-crossed the States, weathered Atlantic storms, seen the greatest sights the world had to offer. Yet all of that paled in comparison to the piece of paper he held in his hands. Uncle Jeff waited by the dockside, two duffels by his feet. He was watching his feet, tension clear in the heft of his shoulders. Jared considered playing it up, keeping his steps soft and his face bowed but he couldn’t do it.

“Ready for this, old man?” he crowed, waving the certificate in front of Uncle Jeff. Jeff seized his wrist to hold it still. Then he shouted in delight.

“First class? That’s fantastic!” Uncle Jeff’s grin split his face in two as he thumped Jared’s back.

“Top of the class, actually.” Jared couldn’t hide his own grin. Then he sobered. “Does this mean...?”

Uncle Jeff grabbed up the duffels and held out the newer one to Jared. “Time to head out on your own?” He whistled through his teeth for a moment. “I’m going back to San Antonio. Help your momma and Jeff out on the farm. Had enough of the sailing life for now.”

Jared shouldered his duffel.

“You could come with me? See your family?” Uncle Jeff seemed to know how futile the request was.

Jared still took a moment to consider it. He could probably pick up work down there too, on the cargo ships serving the frontier and California. Then he shook his head. “I’ve got a couple of offers. One from Captain Elba, who seems to need a mate replaced.” Jeff smiled at that. “The Navy also sent a representative.”

It had been a little frightening, actually, to open the door of his tiny student apartment to find two men in very very spit and polished uniforms asking to see him. His fellow students had gawped in incredulity as Jared invited them in, kicking his laundry under the bed.

“They offered me sailing right away. Not that I need more experience. But I’d make captain quicker with some military training.” Jared looked at the certificate in his hand again. He had managed to cram all the navigation and legal implications of sailing an airship into his brain as well as all the technical details that seemed to come easily. Translating the practical apprenticeship into academic success was something only one in ten sailors managed. And for the navy to come to him... “They’ve got those single sailor ships, faster and quieter than anything else on the planet.”

“It’s tempting, boy,” Uncle Jeff agreed. He eyed Jared up and down. “You sure you up for the hardships?” It was a little bit of a joke. There was the time they’d been swept off course over the Pacific and had to survive on whatever they could scavange from the far scattered islands.

Jared wrapped his uncle in a hug. “Tell them... Tell them I’ll be home when I can.”

Uncle Jeff’s eyes were suspiciously glossy when he pulled back. “You look after yourself, you hear me. Don’t do anything too foolhardy.”

Jared watched as Jeff climbed about the ship ready to depart. There was a stiffness in his movements that had never been there before. A year grounded for this piece of paper seemed to have made a lot of difference to Jeff. Jared ruefully conceded that there had been a lot of changes in himself. He was a man now, in all the ways that society counted. Jared waved the ship off, watching it lift effortlessly into the distance. The sight was still as beautiful as it had been when he was a boy.

He took the elevator back to street level, going from the top of the city to its very bottom. New York thrived on grubbiness and clamour, with the newest street cars still fighting for space with the old horse cabs. He wasn’t meant to be down here, grounded. Jared didn’t even melt into the crowd anymore, being a head higher than just about everybody else. He ducked his shoulders to start with, then straightened. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He was an aviator, first class, and he was going to do his patriotic duty.

 

It was night again when Jared woke. Perhaps. Maybe it was just dark in the cabin. He felt more comfortable and realised that sometime while he'd been asleep, Jensen had managed to work off his leather pants and wrangle him into a fresh sleeping shirt. Jared didn't know if he should be grateful for the care or concerned that he had managed to sleep through it all. The blankets were piled up around him, more than before, including the blankets from his own bed.

Yet Jared was freezing. His feet were blocks of ice, heavy and solid. Each fingertip felt like it was about to fall off. Shivers raced up and down his body, the involuntary movement sending waves of pain in its wake. Jared bit his lip to halt his moan, but Jensen was there, hands gentle against his face.

"You're awake," he said, brushing Jared's sweat drenched hair off his face.

"I'm cold," Jared forced out between chattering teeth. He didn't like to see Jensen frown like that, to see him dampen a cloth in cold water and use it to wipe away the moisture on Jared's skin. "Why am I cold?"

"Fever." Jensen was curt as he smoothed the blankets down over Jared's body. "We're still sailing north. As you said, we're further south than we thought. Misha and Alona were suggesting we head north west, try for the coast. A town."

"More risk," Jared said. It was hard to keep his thoughts straight. He kept wanting to stare at Jensen's eyes, at his perfect smile. At the way his horn-rimmed reading spectacles were perched right on the tip of his nose. "More pirates."

"That's what I thought." Jensen brushed his hand over Jared's hair again. He leaned into the warmth. "We just want to find a doctor for you."

Jared shook his head, ignoring the stabbing hurt through his temples. "I'm not important. Safe. You need to be safe."

Jensen was quiet for a long moment for all his hand did not stop brushing through Jared's hair. Finally he spoke. "You're important to me." His voice was quiet, soft, but his eyes were fierce when they met Jared's. Even through the muddle in his head, he could tell Jensen was serious. "I can't lose you."

Jared tried to reassure him but the words were caught up in a violent shudder. Jensen seemed to come to some sort of realisation and shucked his own coat, throwing it carelessly into a corner of the room. His pants followed, for all he kept his underthings and socks on. He lifted the blankets and carefully arranged himself along Jared's uninjured side. The heat from his body made the cold start to recede.

"Only until you feel better," Jensen promised him.

"It's not a hardship," Jared joked back. "I like it here. Comfortable."

Jensen laid his head on the pillow beside Jared's head and Jared could no longer see his expressions. Jensen let out a soft oof and Jared cursed his own lack of consideration.

"What you said, on deck, during the fight. I want you to know..." He kept his voice soft but turned his head so he was speaking directly into Jensen's ear. "I feel like that too." Jensen turned to face him, lying so close on the pillow that Jared knew he just had to stretch forward an inch and he'd be able to return the kiss he'd received earlier. Having Jensen so close made all the pain seem bearable. "I've loved you for a long time. Possibly since the first time we met."

Jensen smiled then, brilliantly. "Sleep, Jared. We can talk about it when you're well."

"We can do more than talk about it," Jared muttered, suddenly mutinous. He wanted to stay awake and gaze at Jensen's sheer perfection. At the man he loved. Instead, his betraying eyes slid shut of their own accord.

 

Jared wasn't quite sure he suited dress blues. He felt miles too tall in them for one thing, stretching a head above the other aviators again. The US Navy, however, insisted on the formal tight white pants, the starched shirts and collars and the heavy wool coats at every ceremonial occasion. And this particular party promised to be a doozy.

Admiral Singer rested at the podium, letting his eyes sweep across the assembled ranks. Jared was in the fourth row with the other junior officers, ranks of sailors arrayed behind him. In front of them all, berthed at the Naval dockyards lay the new pride of the fleet. The ship was as large as the old cargo barge he'd served his apprenticeship on but deadlier. The narrowness of her hull bespoke speed and terror and the cannon ports along her side were nearly beyond count. The guns let off a salute and the Admiral's daughter swung the usual bottle of champagne until it smashed against the gleaming polished hull.

"I name her Enterprise, May she sail far and serve well." The sailors around Jared raised their caps and let out a rousing hurrah. With the sunlight glittering off every polished fixture and the flag snapping in the brisk breeze, it felt like the perfect moment for the launch. And beside him, Gullifrey's whisper of "But will she be enough" went unremarked by everyone but him. Jared let his eyes cut sideways and caught his shipmate's frown. Gullifrey let out a bark of humourless laughter before fixing a more appropriate smile.

After the formal ceremonies were over, the officers were to mingle with the assorted dignitaries and provide easy conversation and glamorous stories of far away places. Jared marvelled for a moment at the hordes of polite young ladies circling like sharks over petit fours and bone china cups. His mother would never believe it, although Jared vowed to send her the clippings from the newspaper as he posed, smiling, for another picture. The flash blinded him, the only excuse for the way in which he was suddenly cornered by two simpering sisters, each vying with the other for the most ribbons in her hair.

"Ladies." He bowed. Officers had to have manners as well as the ability to command ships. Apparently. Jared could have done with less manners and more tactics.

They giggled behind their fans for a moment as they curtsied to him. "Is it true, Lieutenant Padalecki?"

It was a bad sign that they knew his name. "Is what true?"

"That war is coming?" They didn't look like they were truly interested, with their silk gowns and painted lips.

Jared straightened up, seeing his captain waving from across the field. "Of course not," he replied before excusing himself and trotting across the grass as quickly as was polite. "Captain?"

"Try not to look so relieved at the rescue, Padalecki. We need you to get ready to sail straight away." Jared nodded, momentarily confused.

"But I thought the Enterprise wasn't sailing until next week."

Captain Sheppard sighed, before holding out his hand. Jared took it, still a little bemused. "Congratulations, Padalecki. You've been promoted. You're to command one of the light corsair-class. Every man to the front."

"War?" Jared reeled. Captain was all he had aimed for, dreamed of. But so suddenly and in such circumstances? "What happened?"

"You'll find out soon enough." Captain Sheppard looked around to take account of any listening ears. "Those damn French shot down a passenger vessel over the English Channel. Claim they thought it was a British frigate. Like the Brits know how to build an airship like any of ours. We're to aid the blockade of French and Spanish ports."

Jared nodded, half in agreement and half to give himself time to think. War wasn't sailing or navigating or even this bizarre dance of manners. War was a serious business for serious times. He looked over the gay display of flags and gowns and uniforms and felt a hollowness inside. This was all just play acting.

 

Jared woke when they stripped the soaking sheets from the bed this time. He was still drowsy but was aware enough to hold himself to the side and wrap his arms around Jensen to lift up. It was still dark outside but Jared couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Instead he let Jensen feed him some thin translucent soup and lay back, more exhausted than he should be, on the piled pillows. He watched as Jensen puttered around the cabin, lifting clothes and shoving books and papers into neater piles.

“Why do you like books so much?” Jared knew it was a ridiculous thing to say but he felt he needed an excuse for the way his eyes were fixed on the flex and shift of Jensen’s body. Jensen was tired, when he looked up, circles dark and shadowed under his eyes.

“I’ve always liked books. Since I was a child. My tutor encouraged it.” He lifted one of the neatly bound volumes and waved it towards Jared. “I had a talent for losing myself in a book.”

“It surprises me. I thought you were all adventure, damn the research.” Jared smiled as Jensen kicked a bundle of clothes under his dressing table while caressing the spines of the books on top of it.

Jensen barked out a laugh. “Just because I prefer to spend my life sailing around the world rather than settling in one place? I’m not meant to be stuck in a dusty library, not all the time. But the books lead to ideas and ideas lead to adventures.” Jensen’s lop-sided grin was nearer to a true smile than Jared had seen in days.

“Jensen.” Jared waited until he had his complete attention. “It’s going to work out. We’ll be fine.”

Jensen’s grin trembled for a moment before he hefted another book up off the floor. “Now lie there and let me educate your illiterate ass.”

A rush of heat completely divorced from the fading fever flashed through Jared’s body as Jensen realised what he had said and let his eyes drop to the book. Then he reached up and turned the lamp down low. “Shove over, Jared.”

Jared made space for Jensen on the bed and let his eyes shut as Jensen started. “Chapter one...”

 

Paris looked different under war conditions. No longer the glamorous city of lights. The gas lamps were switched off and the parties, nightclubs and debauchery had been driven underground. All the gaiety of the townspeople had been sucked out by the relentless years of war.

Jared ordered his ship moored to the emergency pylons that had been thrown up after the docks had been successfully bombed. They’d watched the successive firestorm from their positions on the coast, waiting for the order to attack. Jared’s crew had been jubilant but he couldn’t share their glee. He remembered Paris from his time on Elba’s crew. It had been full of wonders for that small boy from San Antonio. His first foreign city.

And now it was nearly in ruins.

Sacre-Coeur still rose on its hill above Montmatre, but the bustling streets around it were eerily quiet. The vast stretch of the Champs Elysees was equally deserted. The citizens of Paris were obviously holding their breaths, waiting to see what the consequences for them of yet another charismatic, megalomaniac leader defeated would be.

Jared wasn’t sure he wanted to hang around and find out. He left his first lieutenant in charge and swung down the steps leading to the ground rather than waiting for the glacially slow and overloaded elevator. He made his way to headquarters, returning salutes from not only American sailors but sailors from what seemed like all the countries in their alliance who responded not only to the gold bars on his coat but also to the thin ribbon he’d had to add to all his uniforms.

Admiral Gamble didn’t keep him waiting long, for a change. “Padalecki, well done on those last skirmishes.”

Jared took the offered hand. “My crew were ready for a fight.”

“Indeed. Are they ready to fight some more?” Gamble had steel behind her easy smile as he slid into the chair behind the laden desk.

“In all honesty? They want to see what Paris has to offer first, sir.” Jared took the seat opposite at the admiral’s gesture. “But if we’ve defeated Napoleon’s armies...?”

“Napoleon VI. You’d think they’d come up with a new name.” Gamble lifted a telegram from her desk. “Mexico border. We’re being asked to step up patrols. You’re from there?”

“Texas, sir.” Jared thought back to his family’s farm in San Antonio. He hadn’t been home in too long. The thought that some of the destruction that had embroiled Europe for the last two centuries, longer, might come calling to that peaceful door made his stomach churn. “Thank you, sir.”

The admiral scrabbled through the paper on her desk. “Week’s leave, then all speed for home.” She handed him his orders, snapped an absent minded salute. “Next please.”

Jared saluted more formally then made his way out of the office. He had another decision to make. Another cliff to jump off. But first he had a week’s leave in Paris and an itch to scratch.

 

Dawn was breaking next time Jared woke. His head felt clearer than it had for days. The ache in his side had receded somewhat. It still hurt, but not when he breathed regularly. His mouth tasted like he’d been chewing onions for a week though. He shifted then froze. Jensen was asleep beside him, book lying open on his chest, glasses askew. His hair was tousled out of the neat combed crop Jensen tended to affect and his shirt was wide open at the neck, letting Jared peek and see just how far Jensen’s freckles trailed down his chest. Jared looked away, suddenly aware of what an invasion of Jensen’s privacy it was to look when he was asleep. Then he remembered that Jensen had nearly given him permission to look.

When Jared turned back, Jensen was blinking awake. “You look better,” he murmured.

“I doubt I could have looked much worse,” Jared retorted. Then he relented. “I’m sorry for taking up your bed for so long. I could manage in my own bed. If you’d prefer.”

Jensen scrubbed his hand over his face, winced when he realised his glasses were still perched on his nose. He took them off and dropped them onto the floor, closely followed by the book. “Stay here. Please?” Jensen’s voice was pleading. “I’d... miss you if you went back to your own cabin.”

“Miss me sweating in your sheets?” Jared teased.

Jensen’s face flushed red and he turned a baleful eye to Jared. He climbed out of the bed and stood by the side. Then a wicked smirk blossomed on his face. Jensen unbutton the cuffs on his shirt then pulled it over his face. He dropped it in the corner then went to work on his pants. Jared’s hands clutched at the sheets as Jensen dropped them to the floor, kicking them off as he pushed down his underwear and socks. His grin had softened a little as he he stood there, naked, hands unsure at his side.

Jared couldn’t tear his eyes away this time. His eyes fixed on the half mast cock nestled against Jensen’s balls. He followed the trail of golden hair up past Jensen’s navel to the smooth skin of his stomach, the firm muscles of his chest, the strength in his arms. Jared drank in Jensen’s elegant, lickable neck before fixing on his mouth. Then his eyes retraced their path, drawn inexorably to Jensen’s cock which was plumping under the strength of his regard. Jared could feel his own cock stirring in his own underwear in response, and he groaned as he rubbed his palm over it.

Jensen came closer to the bed, cock bobbing as he carefully settled onto the bed again. He lay down on top of the blankets, finally taking himself in hand. His eyes were fixed on Jared’s as he started to stoke. The allowance of his witnessing this intimacy made Jared burn with desire. He longed to hold Jensen in his arms, kiss him, rut up into him. He fought his arm out of the blankets, ignore the sting of pain and stretched over to run his hand over Jensen’s flexing arm, his side, the curve of his ass.

“Jensen.” It was too much for him to hold back.

Jensen’s eyes were flickering shut but he fixed them open and let out a soft moan. “I think you should know it’s for you, all for you. I imagined you here for months. I wanted you here. It was hard enough to see you take cool command of my ship, lead us south, follow my clues and hints and fight beside me. But to see you here, lying on the sheets where I’d pictured you so many times...” Jensen cut off to let out a soft groan, his hand speeding it’s pace.

Jared picked up the litany. “I wanted you then, walking the deck, so serious and quiet. I wanted to hear you laugh, see you smile. I wanted to put that smile on your face. I wanted to fall to my knees and worship every inch of you, Jensen. My Jensen.” Jared’s voice had lowered to a rough rasp but Jensen seemed to feel every word as if it was shouted from the top of the New York docks. “I want to love you Jensen, heart, mind, body and soul.”

That was all it took. Jensen’s entire body tensed as he spilled over his hand. Jared held firm, as much to reassure himself that Jensen wasn’t going to jerk off the bed onto the hard floor as much as anything. Jensen relaxed, every muscle in his body lax and a lazy grin spread across his face. Jared tugged his hand up, bringing it to his mouth and lapping at the come stained fingers.

“Dammit, Jared. You have to heal.” Jensen let out a shuddering laugh. “And soon.”

 

It took Jared longer than he expected to readjust to civilian life. He had served his time as promised but it had not seemed quite so long when he was actually serving. Looking back, he realised that a third of his life had been spent saluting and running drill and biting his tongue. The urge to keep biting his tongue was standing him in good stead. New York was changing. The welcoming cosmopolitan town which was happy to take your money and smile was becoming closed and suspicious. It was divided between new and old, foreign and native. Between those who could be trusted and those who were to be treated with suspicion.

Jared supposed the war had made life difficult. The economic turmoil it had wrought was certainly making life difficult for him. There were no jobs, not even as a scrubber, on board any of the ships. Jared had saved his pay for years but even that fragile cushion was in danger of running out. He had enough to pay his passage home and to keep him for a while in Texas. If that was what he had to do.

Jared had decided to think it over one more time, eking out his meagre dollars by nursing a coffee in the back bar of a smoky downtown saloon. He still thought he was right to leave the army – the idea of shooting innocent civilians did not rest well with his conscience, but equally the lack of gainful employment was starting to bite.

He was roused from his second slow read through the morning’s newspaper by a chorus of shouts and yells from the front of the bar. The shouts were incoherent but he did manage to make out the words “Rich bastard” and “Academic scum”. Jared thought for a moment about trying to avoid the scrum until a very handsome and very bleeding man was flung across his table. There was that awkward intake of breath that seems to appear in the middle of every fight. Jared placed his hands on the table and pushed himself up and up. He hid a smug grin at the way the other combatant’s eyes widened as he made his way out of his seat to balance on the balls of his feet in front of them. “Gentlemen.”

There was a noise behind him as the man stood up, straightening his coat. He was tall as well, nearly shoulder to shoulder with Jared even as he ducked to lift a cuff to stem the blood flowing from his nose. The group of three in front of them hesitated and then backed away when Jared flexed his arm, making his bicep strain against the material of his coat. He watched them leave through the door of the saloon and turned to the man who was swaying beside him. Jared guided him to the bench in front of his table and bent to assess the injuries. He was met by the calm assessment of a pair of green eyes lined with the longest lashes Jared had ever seen on a man. The effect wasn’t feminine, offset by a broad jaw, strong nose and a hint of stubble on his cheeks.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” Jared muttered. “Maybe get some raw beef on your eye.”

“Thank you for your help,” the man replied, polite and proper, his educated accent out of place in this bar sure enough. “Let me buy you a drink as payment.”

Jared hesitated but there was no danger in accepting a drink, some conversation. Not until he knew this man a little better. There was no danger in just looking.

The barman replenished Jared’s coffee and brought a fresh one for the man, who had repaired to the restroom to clean up. He looked a little surly but not like he was going to ask them to leave. Maybe the idea of keeping Jared as a fight deterrent had occurred to him. Jared though it over. He could make a living at that, perhaps. The idea of living life with his feet planted firmly on the ground became another bit more unappealing.

“I’m Jensen. Jensen Ackles. Just so you know whose life you saved.” The man looked even more handsome with no blood on his face, although his eye was starting to flame red rather spectacularly.

“Jared Padalecki.” Jared offered his hand and was surprised by the firmness of the shake. “I dare say you would have held your own.”

The man – no, Jensen – ducked his head, shy, and drank his own coffee. His eyes were fixed on Jared over the rim of his mug. “The only thing that would make you even more of a hero to me-“ And there was a flutter of eyelashes that sent a punch of heat to Jared’s gut. “-Was if you could point me in the direction of a qualified and available airship captain.”

“Seriously?” Jared spluttered a little into his coffee and tried to be surreptitious about wiping the liquid from his mouth. “Why do you need a captain?”

“I have a ship.” Jensen shrugged as if this was an everyday occurrence. “My last captain and I did not see eye to eye. So I need a new captain, preferably before the New York Docking Fees result in me needing to sell off some acreage.”

“I’m a captain. Was a captain. Am qualified.” Jared knew he was reddening under that firm gaze. He took a deep breath. “I just left the Navy. I graduated first in my class there and in flight school. I’ve been sailing since I was ten.”

Jensen finally put his mug down. “You must be joking.” Jared shook his head. “Really?” There was relief and delight in Jensen’s voice. “You have to come see her straight away!” Jensen leapt from his seat and peeled off a note that not only covered their two coffees but Jared’s two coffees before and possibly enough coffee that he’d never have to pay for it ever again. Jensen didn’t seem to notice, too busy holding out his hand to Jared to get him to leave.

“Are you for real?” Jared gathered his coat. He left the newspaper.

Jensen grinned, suddenly, before seizing his arm and dragging him out of the bar. Jared resolved then and there to try and put that look on Jensen’s face as often as he could.

 

Jared was jerked out of yet another doze by the sudden sideways jerk of the ship. While his eyes were fluttering open, he realised that the sky outside the porthole was a sickly purple. It was riven by a sudden, startling flash of lightning. The ship shuddered again. Jared grabbed at the edge of the bed as it lurched violently. Stormy weather.

He dragged himself upright and had to sit and pant for a moment as dizziness set in. No one else could handle the ship in a storm, not without dashing them all to the ground or getting them swept miles off course. Jared dragged on a pair of loose pants – Jensen’s from the way they hung about his ankles – and one of his own shirts. He needed to get out there.

Using the partition wall as support, Jared slowly made his way to the ladder leading up to the deck. He clung to the bottom of the rungs, panting. Chad thundered down the ladder in his wet weather gear.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he asked, bluntly, water streaming off the brim of his hat.

“How bad’s the storm?” Jared countered. Chad twisted his face in agreement. “Can you fetch my gear?”

Chad nodded, heading for the locker at the far side of the hatch. He dragged out oilskins and a massive belt, as well as long boots. Jared sat on the chest fixed to the floor beside the ladder. His head was still spinning. Chad knelt and lifted his feet into the boots, fastening them around his legs. Jared smiled in thanks before hauling himself up the ladder, feeling every step in his strained muscles.

Topside, the wind was deafening. The rain lashed across the deck, threatening to sweep any unattached person off the ship, especially with the way the ship was twisting in the storm. Lightning slashed across the sky, showing the crew trying hard to keep the ship aloft. Jensen was at the wheel, gripping tight to the spindles. His hat had been swept back by the wind and he obviously couldn’t let go to fix it. The wind caught the balloon awkwardly and the whole ship jumped, making Jensen lose his grip and fly into the air. He scrabbled to hold the ship steady.

Jared took advantage of the lull to grab at the railing around the wheel house. Then he clambered into place behind Jensen, fastening the trailing chains on his belt to either side of the wheel. The next time the wind tried to tear them from the sky, Jensen wouldn’t go spinning off.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jensen shouted, as Jared brought his hands to the wheel. He knew where to steer but couldn’t grip strongly enough to haul the wheel around. Jensen was holding the wheel just a fraction off and the wind caught the balloon again and tried to rip it from the moorings. If it succeeded, they would plummet to their deaths and Jared wasn’t about to let that happen, not after all they’d been through.

“You’re going to need to help me. If I steer, you can use your strength.to hold the wheel fast.” Jared moved his hands and Jensen followed, holding strong. The next gust drove the ship onwards rather than trying to rip it asunder. Jared hurriedly hooked up his broad belt to the hooks, fastening himself close to Jensen. The belt helped keep him upright as he guided Jensen’s hands to hold the wheel to the left and steer them downwards. Either they should sail above the storm – which was impossible now – or they tried to take shelter nearer the ground. So down it was.

Jared didn’t know how long they stood there, fastened together, as he steered around air currents and wind shifts. Jensen began to almost anticipate his movements, shifting his hands in concert with Jared. The frequency of the lightning diminished, slowly, as the storm moved on. Finally the wind blew itself out and Jared was able to make out landmarks on the ground in the dawn light. There was a coastline down there. Jared knew they were still travelling north, as the sun shone on the port side of the ship. Other than that… He slumped forward, suddenly exhausted, letting Jensen take his weight.

Jensen unfurled his hands from the wheel, loosening the death grip he’d been maintaining. “You better not have ripped your stitches,” he chided. Then he looked over his shoulder. Jared was aware of the intensity of the affection in that gaze before Jensen looked forward again. Jared rested his head on Jensen’s shoulder and held on tight while the last of the rain pelted down on them.

 

From Jensen’s obvious wealth and his enthusiasm, Jared was expecting something fairly special. His expectations were somewhat diminished by the rather grubby vessel in front of him. The balloon was patched and misshapen and the deck rail was splintered and rough as he grabbed it to climb aboard. The deck planks were in a similar state.

“Where are the rest of the crew?” Jared asked, looking around and mentally composing a rant.

Jensen scratched at the back of his neck. “They left with the captain. I was a little harsh when they were late getting me to New York. I missed an important lecture.”

Jared toed at the flaking varnish. He would have been harsh about other things. He followed Jensen belowdecks. The ship looked a little better maintained here. Jensen headed aft and Jared followed. A wooden partition with two doors ran across the width of the ship with a painting hanging in the middle. Jared was shocked to recognise a Texas landscape when he examined it.

“Reminds me of home,” Jensen explained as he pushed open the door to a room that ran most of the way to the bow. There were cabinets of books along one wall and a generous table fastened to the floor near the windows cut in the side of the yacht. Chart desks spilled maps and documents out of every stuffed drawer. Jared looked around as Jensen fumbled through the papers on the table, sending some lighter ones into the remains of a breakfast tray. Jared tugged them out of the congealed egg and set them in a neat pile.

The parchment Jensen laid out with more reverence than he’d shown anything else was old. Jared recognised the spidery writing as Spanish but his command of the language wasn’t good enough to actually make out the words. It looked like a treasure map of some kind – an indistinct coastline, curved lines marking a path. A large X marking the spot.

“I want to go here. Even if there isn’t the promised ‘treasures of the ancients”, I think there’s a temple complex that would definitely fill in some gaps.” Jensen was pulling out other maps. He looked up at Jared, almost boyish in his enthusiasm. “It’ll be a long journey.”

Jared looked at the other maps. He’d not really been to South America beyond a couple of port cities. It looked like it would be an adventure.

“Two conditions?” he said absently, checking over the route he’d take.

“Name them,” Jensen replied.

“I get to hire a crew. And I get to clean your ship.” Jared looked up to meet Jensen’s shocked look which he readily answered with a grin of his own. There was something about this man. Something that Jared found beguiling and intriguing and a little dangerous. “And you should put some meat on that eye before it swells further.”

Jensen pouted slightly. Then he reached out his hand to shake Jared’s again. “Aye aye, captain.”

 

Jared tried to return to his own cabin after the storm. He’d headed forward when they finally clambered belowdecks again, Misha taking the wheel.

Jensen caught at his arm. “Where are you going?”

“Bed.” The ship seemed to swim around him, but Jared reckoned that was probably his head rather than the actual ship. He leaned against the panelling just in case.

Jensen wrapped his arm around Jared’s waist and started leading him aft, through the door leading to his cabin. “You belong in here.”

Jared was too tired to argue, again. “I’m going to need to move my clothes. Your pants are too short.”

“I’ll clear some space,” Jensen promised, manoeuvring them through the passage and into his room. He deposited Jared in the armchair Jensen had been sleeping in occasionally and started stripping off the sheets. He dumped them in the corner that held a growing mass of laundry. “And get Chad to do some laundry in the morning.”

“It is morning.” Jared started unwrapping the oil skins, fingers made clumsy by the cold. It was warm in here, steam pipes heating the air. His fingers started to tingle as they heated too quickly. Even so he managed to get down to his shirt and borrowed pants by the time Jensen smoothed the new blankets on the bed.

Jensen stripped the wet shirt off Jared’s back and added it to the laundry pile as well. He knelt to draw off Jared’s boots, socks and help him out of the pants. “Bed,” he ordered. Jared let himself be half-helped, half-carried until he was blissfully stretched out. Jensen’s hands were gentle as they checked his wound. “I think these stitches will need to be taken out soon.”

Jared nodded, lifting his arms to try and draw Jensen into bed beside him. “Bed for you too,” he tried to say, worried that it came out garbled.

Jensen seemed to understand, leaning over to capture Jared’s mouth in a searing kiss that made all the aches and pains fade into insignificance. “In a minute.”

 

While he was waiting for a response to either the sign he’d posted at the dockside or the request he’d been loud in telling the bo’sun of the passenger ship they were moored next to, Jared got ready to start turning the ship from a shade of her former glory into something he would be proud to sail in. His keen eye hadn’t missed the elegant lines of the yacht, and he’d spent quite some time the previous evening going over as much of the interior as he’d felt comfortable peeking into. The ship was sound, even if it needed a little bit of elbow grease.

Jared had stripped off his shirt and was working a brush covered with sandpaper rather than bristles over the decking. The smog of the street didn’t reach this high and there was a pleasant breeze despite the summer temperatures. Jensen came out on deck around noon, blinking sleepily. He brought Jared a fine bone china cup filled with some of the bitterest coffee Jared had ever drunk. Jensen seemed quite happy swallowing it down. Jared had to follow suit to be polite.

“Who cooks for you?” Jared asked, handing over the newspaper he’d picked up earlier. Jensen blinked owlishly at him for a moment before seeming to understand the question.

“Cooking? I do for myself.”

Jared looked more closely at his new employer, taking in the ink stains and missing buttons on his clothes. “And your laundry?” Jensen shrugged in reply. “That’s… interesting.”

Jared was distracted from his dismay by a soft cough and the sound of footsteps on the gangway. He dusted off his hands as three people climbed on board. One who he vaguely recognised… “Misha Collins? Is that you?”

The dark haired sailor lifted his hat so Jared could catch a glimpse of sparkling blue eyes. It was Misha right enough. Jared came forward with his hand outstretched as he took in the two men with him. No, wait a minute. The blond guy and a girl who was doing her best to look like a boy.

“Misha! You finally bored with cargo ships?” Jared was enthusiastic in his handshake before he introduced himself to the others and received their handshakes in return.

Misha coughed. “Not so much bored as unemployed. The ship was impounded by the bailiffs this morning.”

Jared looked at him closely. Misha had an unusual sense of humour at the best of times. An acquired taste. But he was deadly serious.

“Truthfully?” Jared blurted out, then turned to gather his thoughts. Jensen was watching him closely.

“Told you the docking fees were prohibitive.” Jensen was definitely joking, but there was a seriousness behind his light-hearted tone. “We’d best do the renovations on the move.”

Jared nodded, then he dragged Misha off to the rail for some privacy. “We need someone who can cook and mend as well. Jensen hasn’t exactly been looked after. Would your girl be able to do that?”

“Alona? Not at all. She can’t sew a button.” Misha patted Jared on the arm. “But Chad can.”

Jared looked back at the pair. Alona was looking at the rigging while Chad poked at a peeling bit of varnish with his toe. “Really?”

“Yeah. We’re not a package deal, Padalecki, but…” Misha looked out over the city sightlessly. “The war means a lot of men coming back and a lot fewer ships making cargo. I can vouch for them.”

“She’s not your… wife?” Jared had to know.

Misha shook his head. “There’s a girl up north a ways who might yet agree, but she’s not ready yet. Alona’s very much her own woman. Good in a fight too.”

“This is a pleasure yacht. A gentleman’s ship.” Jared wondered why Misha would want to point out Alona’s fighting aptitude. “We’re not going to get into any trouble.”

Misha started laughing. Then he wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. He hung onto the rail and howled. “Not get into… Jared? It’s you. You’ll always find trouble.”

Jared opened his mouth but realised it was better to just ignore Misha. “Welcome aboard.”

 

They followed the coastline north, keeping it on their starboard side. There was more danger of them being attacked again or even official ships questioning their movements. On the other hand, they would be able to take advantage of the shore breezes to speed them on their way. And there was no chance of anyone getting them lost.

The storm seemed to have broken the weather. They had endless stretches of clear blue skies. And now he was allowed out of bed, Jared chose to spend most of his time on deck, supervising.

“You’re just annoying them,” Jensen tried pointing out, book in hand. He’d insisted that Jared accompany him to the stern, where he’d fussed two deckchairs into position and made Jared sit while he tucked a rug in around his knees. Jensen had settled down to read while Jared glared at the crew going about their duties. Misha had taken the wheel while Alona swung from the rigging, checking knots and ropes. Chad had hung a washing line, taking advantage of the warm breeze to air out sheets and shirts. Jared was the only one unoccupied. And he didn’t like it.

“Not an invalid. Just- I want to be doing something useful.” Jared sat back in the chair and watched the seabirds float idly beside the ship. “I should be doing something.”

“Get well,” Jensen said, indulgently. He turned a page of his book. “Do you want to borrow a book?”

“I want to be scrubbing the deck. Or checking the balloon. Or steering! I’m the captain. I should be…” Jared scrubbed his hands through his hair, ignoring the pull of his wound. His hair was getting long enough to tie back again. He was in two minds about keeping it.

Jensen leaned over, barely keeping his chair from tipping over. He placed a gentle kiss on Jared’s cheek. “I know, love. I know.”

Jared couldn’t stop staring at Jensen, who seemed to be at ease with the way he seemed to have decided to permit himself to unbend, to allow himself to show Jared what he meant to him. There was an answering reply in Jared’s chest, a twinge that might be his breakfast settling but was more likely to be the realisation that this was all he’d wanted: he had a ship, sure enough, but he also had someone willing to sail with him.

Jared settled down in the sunlight. He might as well try and nap a little. He needed his strength back after all.

 

Once Jared managed to reinflate the balloon and get the rigging set to his satisfaction, the ship more than lived up to her name. He’d needed to ask Jensen just what “Impala” meant and had been treated to an illustrated lecture that lasted for an hour. He gleaned that it was some kind of antelope and he thought the name fit. The ship bounded across the sky, her hull now free of debris and the deck polished and gleaming. Jared knew the ship was happy. It was an odd way to describe something that was wood and metal and rope, but he’d served on enough ships to know that there was something beyond reason that affected the performance of a ship and those who rode in her.

Jensen seemed more appreciative of the clean clothes and decent meals that Chad rustled up. He spent most of his time belowdecks, pouring over maps and documents. Jared had to roust him out for air now and again, especially when they hit port.

Finally, it seemed, the real adventure began. They had taken on plenty of supplies in Caracas before sailing inland. The territory wasn’t exactly unmapped but equally the deepest jungle that awaited them was often marked on the charts with huge swathes of green. Even the course of the mighty Amazon river, the only real landmark, was controversial. Jared was reminded of the times he’d spent as a child leaning over the rails of ships watching the ground go past as he watch the mysterious green wilderness pass underneath them. There were no cities or even small towns. Villages were barely visible through the canopy. Equally, after all those years sailing trade routes and then in squadrons, it was strange to be the only ship in sight.

It was everything Jared had dreamed of when he’d watched those airships in the air above San Antonio.

Jensen spent more time on deck now, arcane instruments measuring distance and speed. Jared knew he shouldn’t really be doing it, but he took more hours at the wheel than strictly necessary in order to watch the man work. Then his dreams were full of enthusiastic green eyes and freckles.

They moored at night to the tallest trees, dropping a rope which Alona swung down to fasten to the trunks. Strange animals sometimes made their way up the rope in the night. Jared wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the multi-coloured spiders, but he thought that some of the mammals were cute with their huge eyes and clinging hands. These animals were shy, scuttering away whenever anyone came too close and making their way down the rope again or jumping to the nearest branch from the rail of the ship when the crew made too much noise.

It took them a few weeks’ careful searching they finally arrived at Jensen’s desired co-ordinates. Rather than his usual buttoned up shirt and vest, Jensen came out of his cabin wearing battered leather pants and fastening up an old aviator’s coat. He looked younger in it, more ready to take on the world. And the buttery soft leather pants clung… Jared headed off that line of thought before heading below to grab his own coat and his guns. It looked like Jensen was ready to head to ground.

When he got back on deck, Jensen had also arranged a backpack into which he was coiling rope and loading in mysterious looking objects that were halfway between clockwork toys and torture instruments. Jared plunked himself down next to Jensen, out of earshot of the rest of the crew.

“I’m coming with you,” Jared said. He took Jensen pack from him and tipped out the mess inside and started repacking it. Jensen had paper and books but no weaponry. “Go fasten on your sword.”

Jensen glared at him for a moment, before his stern look faded into a wry smile. “I never thought about that.”

“We don’t know what’s down there. Best be prepared.” Jared checked through the contents of the bag. “Don’t suppose you brought any torches? Lights?

Jensen sat back for a moment on his knees before heading below. He came back, juggling a sword and two long thin tubes. “Flashlights.”

“What do they do?” Jared turned over the tube in his hand. It was heavy enough to give someone a good knock.

“Light up.” Jensen demonstrated before tucking them into the top of his pack. “Are you satisfied?”

Jared caught his eyes, silent and a little too interested. Jensen’s cheeks coloured slightly. “For now.”

 

The ground was littered with plant debris but the only noise down here was that of the wind through the high treetops and the occasional animal noise. Jensen headed off as soon as he stepped free of the long rope ladder from the ship and Jared had to yell at him to stop as he clambered down the final rungs and gave the prearranged signal of tugs to say they were safe. Jared had a flare to let them know when they were ready for the ladder to be dropped again. It was just him and Jensen down here.

Jensen was impatiently checking a compass before he headed north west through the sparse undergrowth. Jared followed close behind.

 

It turned out that Jensen’s navigation skills were actually pretty decent for someone who didn’t really have a lot of practical experience in the real world. The path they were following was too regular and straight to be anything other than man made and they eventually came to a mound covered in moss and vines. Under the vegetation Jared could just make out the regular shape of quarried stones.

Jensen sung his backpack to the ground and dragged out the thing he’d called a flashlight and something that looked like long handled tongs. Jared understood what they were for when Jensen started lifting the vines out of the way. Insects and snakes shot out of the green and made their way to safety. Jared was happy to let them flee.

The careful examination of the stones revealed the form of a squat building covered with drawings. Jensen hummed over them, shining the light on them to see them more clearly. It wasn’t exactly interesting for Jared, who took the square of tarpaulin out of Jensen’s backpack and settled on the ground on top of it. He slipped into a light doze in the humid heat and was a little shocked to feel a hand shaking him. Automatically, Jared grabbed at his attacker, pulling him off balance and making Jensen land flat out on top of his body.

Jared noticed Jensen had very, very long eyelashes. And that the freckles that covered his nose went right into his hairline. Jensen seemed equally intent on memorising every inch of Jared’s own face. Then Jared woke up enough to remember where they were and who Jensen was and he scrambled to his feet, trying to ignore the memory of the warmth of Jensen’s body against his.

“There’s a passageway,” Jensen told him, after Jared had rinsed his suddenly dry mouth with a swallow of water.

“And we’re returning to the ship and having a good night’s sleep?” Jared asked, checking his pistols were still loaded and resettling his sword. Jensen grinned, wildly happy, and handed over one of the flashlights. “Or we could go explore the dangerous tunnel and die horribly.”

“Be optimistic. I don’t think we’ll die horribly. It’ll be quick.” Jensen dodged out of the range of Jared’s hit.

 

The tunnel was dark, wet and full of things that slithered and chittered just out of the range of the beams of light. There were a few twists and turns, enough that Jared couldn’t see any light from the entrance. He followed grimly behind Jensen, sword out and ready.

They whispered to each other, keeping voices soft as if in awe at the age of the place. Jared had no idea how old it was, but Jensen seemed to be talking in hundreds, if not thousands of years. One piece of equipment that Jensen seemed to have no hesitation in using was some kind of light-weight camera which recorded the carvings that were revealed with every sweep of the torch.

Jared was forced to crouch lower and lower as the tunnel buried into the ground. His shoulders were brushing the narrowing walls and he tried to make himself smaller. Jensen held out his arm making Jared stop suddenly.

His flashlight picked out a doorway just a few more steps down the corridor, a dark gaping maw. In front of it lay two skeletons – one dressed in the armour of a Spanish Conquistador.

“Traps.” Jensen looked over his shoulder, smile still fixed on his face. He was enjoying this. It made Jared’s heart lighter to see the naked happiness etched on Jensen’s face. “Probably some kind of pressure pads.” He shone his light on the floor to show a checkerboard pattern just visible under the detritus of hundreds of years. He prodded one of the stones with a tentative toe. A dart shot out of a hole hidden in the carvings. Jensen nodded. “Stay on the dark ones.”

Jared tiptoed his way over the stones, pausing again when Jensen pointed to a stone that was tilted downwards. This one he knew.

“Trap door? Swings down?” Jensen nodded then shone his torch around the edge. He prodded at one of the carvings and there was the grating sound of machinery long disused swinging into action. The echoes resounded up and down the narrow tunnel.

“Should be good,” Jensen said, striding forward. Jared’s breath caught in his throat as he waited for the trap to drop regardless. It didn’t, but Jared still covered the slab in as few steps as possible, joining Jensen at the threshold of the doorway. Jensen was examining the carvings, taking more pictures.

“Ready?” Jared asked, trying to shine his light into the void. The darkness seemed to swallow the narrow beam.

Jensen nodded. Another one of his wicked boyish grins was spread across his face. “You are not ready for this, Jared. Not at all.”

Jensen led the way through the archway and Jared stayed close on his heels. The room was obviously some sort of cave from the way their footsteps echoed back to them. Jared’s flashlight illuminated the flagstone floor and little else. Jensen made some sort of humph noise and his light flickered out. Jared swung his beam around in panic, to see Jensen fiddling with the tube he had. The housing around the light bulb opened like the petals on a flower and when Jensen turned it on again, the amount of light given out was immense. Jared watched as Jensen placed the light on the floor then froze, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. He spun around to see the scattered light reflecting off piles of silver, gold, gems… A skeleton bedecked with jewellery sat in a throne made of polished metal at the far side of the room. It was gruesome and glorious in equal measure.

The vegetation hadn’t penetrated this far into the darkness but there were plenty of insect sounds and hasty slithers that suggested that animal life wasn’t as fussy. Jared turned around to face Jensen, whose face was alight with unholy glee.

“What is this?” Jared asked, taking in brightly painted carvings around the perimeter of the room.

“Eldorado? Shangri-La?” Jensen’s voice was wondering.

“I think Shangri-La is in the Himalayas. Want to go there next?” Jared tried to keep his voice steady but it was futile. “This is incredible!”

“Yes, it is.” Jensen’s voice was softer than before and when Jared turned to look at him, Jensen wasn’t looking at the gold or the skeleton or even the carvings. He was looking straight at Jared.

 

Taking stitches out wasn’t pleasant or comfortable but Jared’s wound wasn’t too red or inflamed after. Chad had done a neat job sewing up the cut and the skin, whilst it would always bear a scar, wasn’t too puckered. Jared ran his fingers over the ridged skin before Jensen caught his hand.

“Looks good,” Jared said. Then he met Jensen’s eyes, which were full of heat.

The angle might have been awkward but the way their lips met was anything but. Jared devoured Jensen’s mouth, biting at his bottom lip, flicking his tongue over the hurt. Jensen buried his hands in Jared’s hair and positioned his head perfectly to battle for dominance over the kiss, the wet slide of their lips, the soft pants and groans that were starting to build.

Jared had to breathe heavily when they pulled apart. Jensen leaned forward and rested his forehead against Jared’s and waited while Jared recovered. “I want…”

“What do you want, Jared? What can I give to you?” Jensen kissed at Jared’s cheek, his ear, his neck.

Jared wrapped his arms around Jensen, holding him fast. “You. I want you.”

“And I, you.” Jensen sung his leg over to sit sprawled across Jared’s thighs. They kissed again, fervent, all their longing poured into the simple meeting of mouths. Jensen laughed into the kiss.

“What?” Jared asked. He tried to appear annoyed but all he could do was smile dopily at Jensen.

“Can I show you one of the other perks of this being a luxury yacht rather than one of your lethal fighting machines?” Jensen started working his way back off the bed. Jared made a protesting noise and followed. Jensen helped him pull himself off the bed and dragged him through the door that led to Jensen’s private facilities. Beyond the room with the sink and toilet lay another door that opened into another room with a huge glass porthole. In the middle of the floor a platform held a spacious bath. Jared grinned. He liked the idea of this.

“Just to warn you, I may never actually leave this room.” Jared eyed up the collection of bottles and jars jumbled at the foot of the bath. “This is…”

“Decadence. Luxury.” Jensen shrugged. “I like to be clean.”

“And smell good for your man.” Jared dragged Jensen closer and sniffed at his hair, laughing when Jensen batted at him irritably. “Bath first, then?”

“Bath and then bed.” Jensen said, leaning over to start the taps. Jared leaned against the doorway and watched him. Jensen sometimes did have the best plans.

 

Jensen was meticulous in recording every aspect of the scene in front of them before he allowed Jared to load up a bag with some of the treasure in front of them. They’d talked about leaving it in place but Jensen argued that they needed proof of their discovery beyond the images he’d stored in a special safe back on the ship. They would also need to protect the jewels from treasure hunters that would swarm to the area. These belonged in a museum.

Jared had nodded at that before realising what he was doing. With even a handful of the gold he could see, he could buy his own ship, crew it. It meant freedom and independence, something Jensen already had experienced from birth. Jared had spent a long time, sitting in the stern of the ship alone, looking at the vibrantly shining stars, thinking it over.

Misha ended up bringing him a mug of coffee, steaming in the night air. Jared took it gratefully.

“We could do it, you know.” Misha leaned against the rail in a pose of studied casualness.

“Do what?” Jared didn’t make eye contact.

“Kill Jensen, take the treasure, sell the ship. Be wealthy.” Misha shrugged when Jared looked sharply at him. “Just pointing that out.”

Jared rolled his shoulders. “I won’t say I wasn’t tempted.” He kept his voice quiet. “For an instant. And I hate that I was.” He led out a shuddering sigh, drained the rest of the coffee before heading belowdecks to his cabin. He needed to rest, to replenish his energies for another day of recording and note-taking and measuring.

Of course, their careful plans were destroyed.

Mid-morning, just after Jared had brought a load of strange knotted strings to the ship and stored them in crates in the tiny luggage hold, trouble arrived. The hold was starting to fill and Jared was estimated how to store the rest of the artifacts when Alona shouted for him to come on deck. Jared saw immediately what was worrying her. On the furthest horizon, barely visible until he brought the telescope up, a mean, lean, hungry fleet of battered ships was advancing upon them.

“Pirates.”

 

Looking out of the huge window at the full, gibbous moon while soaking in a tub of steaming hot water, lit by the gentle flickering of lanterns set low had Jared thinking he must have done something right in his life. The impression was added to by the way Jensen sat, dressed only in his underwear, dipping a hand in the water and flicking Jared with droplets now and again. Jensen had left the door to his bedroom open and the subdued strains of soft music drifted through from the phonograph. Jared found his attention drifting from the view of stars and moon more and frequently to the gentle smile on Jensen’s face, the way the laughter lines around his eyes crinkled.

As the bath cooled, they swapped places, Jared swaddled in towels while Jensen sluiced the water over his shoulders. Jared couldn’t resist dropping his hand into the water and stroking along Jensen’s protruding knee, dipping lower to feel the strong muscles in his thighs. Jensen seized his wrist before Jared got all the way to his intended destination.

They shared a look full of desire and want.

Jensen didn’t linger in the tub. Instead he stood up, water flowing in sheets from his body. Jared looked his fill – the dim light and the droplets of water making his body gleam. Jared collected the drips on his tongue, licking up and over a pert nipple as Jensen stood there, glorious.

The walk to the bed was impeded by grabbing hands and lips determined to kiss. Finally they fell to the sheets, all pretence gone, bodies entwined.

 

Alona was sent scurrying down the rope ladder to fetch Jensen and Chad from the ruins. There were chests to bring up to the ship still but Jared knew they were running out of time. He hauled as many as he could while Misha watched the pirate fleet draw ever closer. After too long a space of time, Jensen appeared, clutching his notes. Alona hooked up another chest to the pulley system and waited for Jensen to start to climb. They were obviously arguing but Jensen climbed all the same.

Jared handed him the telescope without a word and pointed in the direction of the danger. Then he winched the rest of his crew aboard. Chad was sent below to see to the securing of the chests while Alona broke out the arms. They weren’t armed like Jared’s old ship had been, obviously. No cannon or any of the new-fangled laser guns that were beginning to be installed. Instead they had a few ancient muskets, some pistols and swords that Jared had dulled cutting back the greenery around the ruins.

It would have to do.

The pirate fleet was moving fast but Jared reckoned they could probably outrun most of them. The Impala wasn’t any old scow. Instead her name reflected the speed and manoeuvrability of the vessel. Chad poked his head out of the hatch and waved, the signal that all was right below. Jared took the wheel.

The repairs to the balloon were obvious as it swelled with additional air. Jared hoped they held as he turned the tiller into the wind. It didn’t really matter which way they were going, not any more. They had enough equipment to get back on track if they managed to escape. Instead he concentrated on building up speed, praying to all the deities under the sun that the propeller would be enough, that the rigging would take the strain. Jensen took up position next to the wheel house, eye fixed to the telescope. He let out a soft groan.

“Half of them have stopped over the ruins,” he explained when Jared shot him a quick look. “They’ll destroy it.”

“Your photographical images and the items we have aboard will have to do,” Jared said grimly. The pirates would probably be within gun range shortly and he didn’t have enough concentration to soothe Jensen’s ruffled feathers. “Get your sword.”

Jensen pulled the weapon from its sheath. He’d dumped it on the ground next to his last haul from the underground chamber. Jewels spilled from his satchel and he hurriedly thrust them inside again, fastening it securely. The wind was whipping at Jared’s face, making his eyes tear. He dared not stop to fix on his goggles. Any minute could be vital now.

“Take the wheel,” Jared ordered Jensen swapping position for a minute and sighting the pursuing ships through the telescope. Most of them had fallen behind, choosing to investigate what had held their interest. One ship was still chasing them, speeding through the air, balloon distended and over-inflated to make them faster and meaner. Jared could see the crew readying grappling hooks and their own weapons. He swore and grabbed the wheel again. “’’Ware boarders!” he shouted, seeing his crew ready their own weapons as the first of the grapples bit into the wood of Impala’s rails.

A moment of annoyance at the damage they were causing his ship made Jared laugh as he locked the wheel and prepared to fight. Jensen was beside him, eyes a little wide but jaw set and firm.

The pirates were a mixed bunch – male and female, colouring ranging from sunburnt Irish to ebony African. They were ferocious, shooting pistols and discarding them only to draw another ready gun. Jared was impressed at the calm way Jensen sighted and shot, making every bullet of their limited ammunition count. He was equally glad that the pirates’ weaponry was old fashioned and prone to misfiring as they were rapidly moving to close quarters fighting. He had a size and reach advantage over just about everyone.

They lured him and Jensen away from the safety of the wheelhouse. They fought with even more fervour. And their small ship seemed packed to the gunnels with crew as they kept coming. Jensen was breathing hard, panting nearly, as he parried and thrust, protecting Jared’s back.

Then the fateful admission. “I love you.”

Jared’s joy at fighting off the pirates was matched by the sudden elation filling his heart. Jensen loved him! All the half thought flirting, the glances Jared had thought unreturned. He couldn’t wait for them to return to civilization or even for their duties to be over so that he could finally, finally tell Jensen how he felt.

Then he was shot.

 

They were back in the stern of the ship, the others gathered in the bow. Night had fallen, a clear cold cloudless night. Jared had spread out blankets, brought out a bottle of wine he’d been saving for the journey home and sat there. Jensen took one look at the set up and headed belowdecks again, dragging out his phonogram and winding it up. Soft music drifted across the deck.

“Isn’t this a little obvious?” Jensen asked as he settled beside him on the blanket.

Jared handed over a glass. “And me spending the nights in your bed wasn’t enough?” Jared grinned. “And there’s a good chance they heard you begging for my cock.”

Jensen scowled as he lay back on the blankets, propping himself on an elbow. Then he set his glass down and lay back. The earth was still dark beneath them and the soft running lights were dim. Even so, Jensen was sun-kissed, golden and beautiful. Jared laughed a little at the poetic turn his thoughts were taking. Jensen deserved it, Jared considered, a little sentimental. He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Jensen’s lips.

Jensen smiled before turning his head to glance at the rest of the crew. Jared kissed him again before lying beside him, shoulders brushing.

The stars were arrayed in the skies above them, cold chips of ice. Jared took in their familiar shapes and let his fingers curl over Jensen’s. “We’re almost home.”

“How can you tell?” Jensen asked, not moving beside him.

“The stars, Jensen.” Jared rolled his head to the side to see Jensen watching him rather than all the glories of heaven. “What we use to navigate.”

There was a long pause. Then Jensen rolled his head back to look at the sky. He asked in a soft voice, barely audible over the strings on the phonogram. “Will you stay?”

Jared returned to watching the stars, wine forgotten by his side. He knew what Jensen was asking – it was more than being captain or even being in his bed. Jared wondered again what might have come to pass should his mother have forbade his uncle from buying his apprenticeship. Or what would have happened had the choice to gain his master’s licence not been given to him. Even if he had been shot over France rather than deep in the Amazonian rainforest. He would not be lying here, hand fastened over Jensen’s. Or maybe he would have?

It was with growing certainty that he realised that had they not met in that bar then they would have met, introduced by friends or at the docks or even back in Texas. There was no power in Heaven nor on Earth that would have stopped him falling for this man.

“Always.” Jensen entwined his fingers with Jared’s at his sure answer. They had a million more adventures ahead of them.


End file.
